So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.

You can also find this story on ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN under the same title and pen name along with a place to post suggestions.

Don't forget to check out the Photobucket album listed on my profile page too.

DAY TWO

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012

1639 HOURS

THE STREETS OF MANHATTAN

NEW YORK CITY

STEVE ROGERS

I'm nothing to people anymore. It's a strange thought, and an even stranger feeling, because a part of me actually likes it. It isn't something I thought I would ever miss, being overlooked.

After all, I spent a large part of my life just trying to get people to pay attention to me and take me seriously. Then I got what I wanted, and suddenly everybody knew who I was, I was the person other people got ignored for.

I won't lie and say that I didn't like the attention I received traveling from city to city to help sell bonds for the war, but the transition happened so quickly it was almost suffocating. I wanted to be noticed by people, but I never dreamed it would be that many people!

Now, the most people acknowledge me is shifting their shoulders so they don't walk into me as we stroll in opposite directions around Manhattan.

I don't really know what I'm doing today, I just felt the need to get out of my apartment.

After finishing a quick breakfast of half a dozen bagels and some coffee I went back into my bedroom and picked out my clothes for the day, a light plaid button down with a white tee-shirt to go under it and pair of tan pants.

Then I took a long military shower, letting it last about five minutes or so. Its one of those habits I still haven't been able to break. I know I don't have any reason to hurry beyond the ones I give myself but while according to the rest of the world the days of doing without and saving what you had are decades away to me it's been less than a few years. In my head it just doesn't seem right to waste that much water.

I found myself sitting at my desk next, all dressed for the day, with 'that' folder open in front of me. I've had it a week less than the time I've been awake, but I haven't opened it until now. I couldn't bring myself to.

I made myself do it today. I owed it to the guys, my brothers in arms, my friends. Morita, Falsworth, Dugan, Dernier, and Jones. A pack of loyal idiots if ever there was one. They deserve better than me ignoring their legacy.

They did the only thing they could, and kept on living there lives like the soldiers they were, and they'd smack me if they saw me like this, not living mine.

He would smack me for sure. Bucky wouldn't give a damn that I was a Super Soldier, he'd knock me a good one for being such a punk. I got a second chance in the 'world of tomorrow', with a gorgeous dame at my side and I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to let go of things I had no control over.

He would have adored Nora, glad to know that I had someone around to take care of me. She's a modern woman, that I have no disillusions about, but there is this ageless quality that makes her seem like she would be just at home in the past as in the future.

She'd be a change of pace for him that's for sure, he always had a thing for little spitfire brunette sweethearts and there was never a question that Bucky could charm a lady, but Nora's conditions makes her immune to pretty words, it would be nice to see Bucky treat a woman like a real lady and not a pretty face to dance with for the night.

The only woman I know who ever did that to Bucky was Peggy. Peggy who it turns out is still alive.

When I didn't see the large red letters stamped over her file it gave me pause. My girl, my best girl, was still alive. That thought made me so happy. Then more thoughts followed it.

Peggy was born in the spring of 1921, she was already in her twenties when we met, which means she would be in her nineties now. She would have moved on with her life, she did move on with her life in fact. I can see it right on the paper in front of me. She got married, and had kids.

As much as I liked Peggy, the only thing we shared was a kiss and the battlefield. It wouldn't be fair for me to show up back in her life like a ghost of her past at the end. I wasn't sure I could do that to her, not yet.

That's what drove me out of my apartment. I was going to move forward today, I told myself that, so I wasn't going to let my feelings shut me back in. She wouldn't want me to do that and neither would Nora.

For a while the wandering was just wandering, until I found a café called Pershing Square under the Park Avenue bridge near Grand Central Station. I'd never been there before, but decided the place looked nice enough to warrant a small break and something to drink.

I even stayed long enough that my fingers started to casually sketch the view with the small pencil I carried around for that exact purpose. I stayed there until the waitress showed her interest. She was attractive and pleasant enough, but given the things I learned today I knew I wasn't ready for that yet, let alone with a stranger who can't know about my past.

I left her a twenty-dollar tip even though my bill for a muffin and coffee only came to five dollars, and I made my way back into the streets of Brooklyn, letting my memory lead me to a destination I wasn't even sure would be there.

It turned out my hope wasn't misplaced, even if a few letters were over the years. Goldie's Gym was now called Goldman's.

She isn't here this time to witness the aftermath of me exorcising my demons on a punching bag, and I'm sort of glad for that. It was never her responsibility to deal with my problems, no matter how much I appreciated each time she choose to for no other reason than because she understood.

I'll be the one to fix my own hands this time.

NOTES FOR THE READERS:

This chapter mostly covers a deleted scene from the Avengers that got left on the cutting room floor because they decided seeing Steve Destroy a sandbag in the wake of memory flashes conveyed the same message better, but while I respect Joss Whedon's vision, I still liked the scene and decided to use it.

Also the gym in reference is from CAPTAIN AMERICA: FIRST VENGEANCE. Goldie's Boxing Gym is where Bucky took Steve so they could try to train him so he would pass the physical to join the army.